The Need of Knowledge
Mr. Corbeck seemed to go almost off his head at the recovery of the
lamps. He took them up one by one and looked them all over tenderly,
as though they were things that he loved. In his delight and
excitement he breathed so hard that it seemed almost like a cat
purring. Sergeant Daw said quietly, his voice breaking the silence
like a discord in a melody:
“Are you quite sure those lamps are the ones you had, and that were
stolen?”
His answer was in an indignant tone: “Sure! Of course I’m sure.
There isn’t another set of lamps like these in the world!”
“So far as you know!” The Detective’s words were smooth enough, but
his manner was so exasperating that I was sure he had some motive in
it; so I waited in silence. He went on:
“Of course there may be some in the British Museum; or Mr. Trelawny may
have had these already. There’s nothing new under the sun, you know,
Mr. Corbeck; not even in Egypt. These may be the originals, and yours
may have been the copies. Are there any points by which you can
identify these as yours?”
Mr. Corbeck was really angry by this time. He forgot his reserve; and
in his indignation poured forth a torrent of almost incoherent, but
enlightening, broken sentences:
“Identify! Copies of them! British Museum! Rot! Perhaps they keep a
set in Scotland Yard for teaching idiot policemen Egyptology! Do I
know them? When I have carried them about my body, in the desert, for
three months; and lay awake night after night to watch them! When I
have looked them over with a magnifying-glass, hour after hour, till my
eyes ached; till every tiny blotch, and chip, and dinge became as
familiar to me as his chart to a captain; as familiar as they doubtless
have been all the time to every thick-headed area-prowler within the
bounds of mortality. See here, young man, look at these!” He ranged
the lamps in a row on the top of the cabinet. “Did you ever see a set
of lamps of these shapes—of any one of these shapes? Look at these
dominant figures on them! Did you ever see so complete a set—even in
Scotland Yard; even in Bow Street? Look! one on each, the seven forms
of Hathor. Look at that figure of the Ka of a Princess of the Two
Egypts, standing between Ra and Osiris in the Boat of the Dead, with
the Eye of Sleep, supported on legs, bending before her; and Harmochis
rising in the north. Will you find that in the British Museum—or Bow
Street? Or perhaps your studies in the Gizeh Museum, or the
Fitzwilliam, or Paris, or Leyden, or Berlin, have shown you that the
episode is common in hieroglyphics; and that this is only a copy.
Perhaps you can tell me what that figure of Ptah-Seker-Ausar holding
the Tet wrapped in the Sceptre of Papyrus means? Did you ever see it
before; even in the British Museum, or Gizeh, or Scotland Yard?”
He broke off suddenly; and then went on in quite a different way:
“Look here! it seems to me that the thick-headed idiot is myself! I
beg your pardon, old fellow, for my rudeness. I quite lost my temper
at the suggestion that I do not know these lamps. You don’t mind, do
you?” The Detective answered heartily:
“Lord, sir, not I. I like to see folks angry when I am dealing with
them, whether they are on my side or the other. It is when people are
angry that you learn the truth from them. I keep cool; that is my
trade! Do you know, you have told me more about those lamps in the
past two minutes than when you filled me up with details of how to
identify them.”
Mr. Corbeck grunted; he was not pleased at having given himself away.
All at once he turned to me and said in his natural way:
“Now tell me how you got them back?” I was so surprised that I said
without thinking:
“We didn’t get them back!” The traveller laughed openly.
“What on earth do you mean?” he asked. “You didn’t get them back!
Why, there they are before your eyes! We found you looking at them
when we came in.” By this time I had recovered my surprise and had my
wits about me.
“Why, that’s just it,” I said. “We had only come across them, by
accident, that very moment!”
Mr. Corbeck drew back and looked hard at Miss Trelawny and myself;
turning his eyes from one to the other as he asked:
“Do you mean to tell me that no one brought them here; that you found
them in that drawer? That, so to speak, no one at all brought them
back?”
“I suppose someone must have brought them here; they couldn’t have come
of their own accord. But who it was, or when, or how, neither of us
knows. We shall have to make inquiry, and see if any of the servants
know anything of it.”
We all stood silent for several seconds. It seemed a long time. The
first to speak was the Detective, who said in an unconscious way:
“Well, I’m damned! I beg your pardon, miss!” Then his mouth shut like
a steel trap.
We called up the servants, one by one, and asked them if they knew
anything of some articles placed in a drawer in the boudoir; but none
of them could throw any light on the circumstance. We did not tell
them what the articles were; or let them see them.
Mr. Corbeck packed the lamps in cotton wool, and placed them in a tin
box. This, I may mention incidentally, was then brought up to the
detectives’ room, where one of the men stood guard over them with a
revolver the whole night. Next day we got a small safe into the house,
and placed them in it. There were two different keys. One of them I
kept myself; the other I placed in my drawer in the Safe Deposit vault.
We were all determined that the lamps should not be lost again.
About an hour after we had found the lamps, Doctor Winchester arrived.
He had a large parcel with him, which, when unwrapped, proved to be the
mummy of a cat. With Miss Trelawny’s permission he placed this in the
boudoir; and Silvio was brought close to it. To the surprise of us
all, however, except perhaps Doctor Winchester, he did not manifest the
least annoyance; he took no notice of it whatever. He stood on the
table close beside it, purring loudly. Then, following out his plan,
the Doctor brought him into Mr. Trelawny’s room, we all following.
Doctor Winchester was excited; Miss Trelawny anxious. I was more than
interested myself, for I began to have a glimmering of the Doctor’s
idea. The Detective was calmly and coldly superior; but Mr. Corbeck,
who was an enthusiast, was full of eager curiosity.
The moment Doctor Winchester got into the room, Silvio began to mew and
wriggle; and jumping out of his arms, ran over to the cat mummy and
began to scratch angrily at it. Miss Trelawny had some difficulty in
taking him away; but so soon as he was out of the room he became quiet.
When she came back there was a clamour of comments:
“I thought so!” from the Doctor.
“What can it mean?” from Miss Trelawny.
“That’s a very strange thing!” from Mr. Corbeck.
“Odd! but it doesn’t prove anything!” from the Detective.
“I suspend my judgment!” from myself, thinking it advisable to say
something.
Then by common consent we dropped the theme—for the present.
In my room that evening I was making some notes of what had happened,
when there came a low tap on the door. In obedience to my summons
Sergeant Daw came in, carefully closing the door behind him.
“Well, Sergeant,” said I, “sit down. What is it?”
“I wanted to speak to you, sir, about those lamps.” I nodded and
waited: he went on: “You know that that room where they were found
opens directly into the room where Miss Trelawny slept last night?”
“Yes.”
“During the night a window somewhere in that part of the house was
opened, and shut again. I heard it, and took a look round; but I could
see no sign of anything.”
“Yes, I know that!” I said; “I heard a window moved myself.”
“Does nothing strike you as strange about it, sir?”
“Strange!” I said; “Strange! why it’s all the most bewildering,
maddening thing I have ever encountered. It is all so strange that one
seems to wonder, and simply waits for what will happen next. But what
do you mean by strange?”
The Detective paused, as if choosing his words to begin; and then said
deliberately:
“You see, I am not one who believes in magic and such things. I am for
facts all the time; and I always find in the long-run that there is a
reason and a cause for everything. This new gentleman says these
things were stolen out of his room in the hotel. The lamps, I take it
from some things he has said, really belong to Mr. Trelawny. His
daughter, the lady of the house, having left the room she usually
occupies, sleeps that night on the ground floor. A window is heard to
open and shut during the night. When we, who have been during the day
trying to find a clue to the robbery, come to the house, we find the
stolen goods in a room close to where she slept, and opening out of it!”
He stopped. I felt that same sense of pain and apprehension, which I
had experienced when he had spoken to me before, creeping, or rather
rushing, over me again. I had to face the matter out, however. My
relations with her, and the feeling toward her which I now knew full
well meant a very deep love and devotion, demanded so much. I said as
calmly as I could, for I knew the keen eyes of the skilful investigator
were on me:
“And the inference?”
He answered with the cool audacity of conviction:
“The inference to me is that there was no robbery at all. The goods
were taken by someone to this house, where they were received through a
window on the ground floor. They were placed in the cabinet, ready to
be discovered when the proper time should come!”
Somehow I felt relieved; the assumption was too monstrous. I did not
want, however, my relief to be apparent, so I answered as gravely as I
could:
“And who do you suppose brought them to the house?”
“I keep my mind open as to that. Possibly Mr. Corbeck himself; the
matter might be too risky to trust to a third party.”
“Then the natural extension of your inference is that Mr. Corbeck is a
liar and a fraud; and that he is in conspiracy with Miss Trelawny to
deceive someone or other about those lamps.”
“Those are harsh words, Mr. Ross. They’re so plain-spoken that they
bring a man up standing, and make new doubts for him. But I have to go
where my reason points. It may be that there is another party than
Miss Trelawny in it. Indeed, if it hadn’t been for the other matter
that set me thinking and bred doubts of its own about her, I wouldn’t
dream of mixing her up in this. But I’m safe on Corbeck. Whoever else
is in it, he is! The things couldn’t have been taken without his
connivance—if what he says is true. If it isn’t—well! he is a liar
anyhow. I would think it a bad job to have him stay in the house with
so many valuables, only that it will give me and my mate a chance of
watching him. We’ll keep a pretty good look-out, too, I tell you.
He’s up in my room now, guarding those lamps; but Johnny Wright is
there too. I go on before he comes off; so there won’t be much chance
of another house-breaking. Of course, Mr. Ross, all this, too, is
between you and me.”
“Quite so! You may depend on my silence!” I said; and he went away to
keep a close eye on the Egyptologist.
It seemed as though all my painful experiences were to go in pairs, and
that the sequence of the previous day was to be repeated; for before
long I had another private visit from Doctor Winchester who had now
paid his nightly visit to his patient and was on his way home. He took
the seat which I proffered and began at once:
“This is a strange affair altogether. Miss Trelawny has just been
telling me about the stolen lamps, and of the finding of them in the
Napoleon cabinet. It would seem to be another complication of the
mystery; and yet, do you know, it is a relief to me. I have exhausted
all human and natural possibilities of the case, and am beginning to
fall back on superhuman and supernatural possibilities. Here are such
strange things that, if I am not going mad, I think we must have a
solution before long. I wonder if I might ask some questions and some
help from Mr. Corbeck, without making further complications and
embarrassing us. He seems to know an amazing amount regarding Egypt
and all relating to it. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind translating a little
bit of hieroglyphic. It is child’s play to him. What do you think?”
When I had thought the matter over a few seconds I spoke. We wanted
all the help we could get. For myself, I had perfect confidence in
both men; and any comparing notes, or mutual assistance, might bring
good results. Such could hardly bring evil.
“By all means I should ask him. He seems an extraordinarily learned
man in Egyptology; and he seems to me a good fellow as well as an
enthusiast. By the way, it will be necessary to be a little guarded as
to whom you speak regarding any information which he may give you.”
“Of course!” he answered. “Indeed I should not dream of saying
anything to anybody, excepting yourself. We have to remember that when
Mr. Trelawny recovers he may not like to think that we have been
chattering unduly over his affairs.”
“Look here!” I said, “why not stay for a while: and I shall ask him to
come and have a pipe with us. We can then talk over things.”
He acquiesced: so I went to the room where Mr. Corbeck was, and
brought him back with me. I thought the detectives were pleased at his
going. On the way to my room he said:
“I don’t half like leaving those things there, with only those men to
guard them. They’re a deal sight too precious to be left to the police!”
From which it would appear that suspicion was not confined to Sergeant
Daw.
Mr. Corbeck and Doctor Winchester, after a quick glance at each other,
became at once on most friendly terms. The traveller professed his
willingness to be of any assistance which he could, provided, he added,
that it was anything about which he was free to speak. This was not
very promising; but Doctor Winchester began at once:
“I want you, if you will, to translate some hieroglyphic for me.”
“Certainly, with the greatest pleasure, so far as I can. For I may
tell you that hieroglyphic writing is not quite mastered yet; though we
are getting at it! We are getting at it! What is the inscription?”
“There are two,” he answered. “One of them I shall bring here.”
He went out, and returned in a minute with the mummy cat which he had
that evening introduced to Silvio. The scholar took it; and, after a
short examination, said:
“There is nothing especial in this. It is an appeal to Bast, the Lady
of Bubastis, to give her good bread and milk in the Elysian Fields.
There may be more inside; and if you will care to unroll it, I will do
my best. I do not think, however, that there is anything special.
From the method of wrapping I should say it is from the Delta; and of a
late period, when such mummy work was common and cheap. What is the
other inscription you wish me to see?”
“The inscription on the mummy cat in Mr. Trelawny’s room.”
Mr. Corbeck’s face fell. “No!” he said, “I cannot do that! I am, for
the present at all events, practically bound to secrecy regarding any
of the things in Mr. Trelawny’s room.”
Doctor Winchester’s comment and my own were made at the same moment. I
said only the one word “Checkmate!” from which I think he may have
gathered that I guessed more of his idea and purpose than perhaps I had
intentionally conveyed to him. He murmured:
“Practically bound to secrecy?”
Mr. Corbeck at once took up the challenge conveyed:
“Do not misunderstand me! I am not bound by any definite pledge of
secrecy; but I am bound in honour to respect Mr. Trelawny’s confidence,
given to me, I may tell you, in a very large measure. Regarding many
of the objects in his room he has a definite purpose in view; and it
would not be either right or becoming for me, his trusted friend and
confidant, to forestall that purpose. Mr. Trelawny, you may know—or
rather you do not know or you would not have so construed my remark—is
a scholar, a very great scholar. He has worked for years toward a
certain end. For this he has spared no labour, no expense, no personal
danger or self-denial. He is on the line of a result which will place
him amongst the foremost discoverers or investigators of his age. And
now, just at the time when any hour might bring him success, he is
stricken down!”
He stopped, seemingly overcome with emotion. After a time he recovered
himself and went on:
“Again, do not misunderstand me as to another point. I have said that
Mr. Trelawny has made much confidence with me; but I do not mean to
lead you to believe that I know all his plans, or his aims or objects.
I know the period which he has been studying; and the definite
historical individual whose life he has been investigating, and whose
records he has been following up one by one with infinite patience.
But beyond this I know nothing. That he has some aim or object in the
completion of this knowledge I am convinced. What it is I may guess;
but I must say nothing. Please to remember, gentlemen, that I have
voluntarily accepted the position of recipient of a partial confidence.
I have respected that; and I must ask any of my friends to do the same.”
He spoke with great dignity; and he grew, moment by moment, in the
respect and esteem of both Doctor Winchester and myself. We understood
that he had not done speaking; so we waited in silence till he
continued:
“I have spoken this much, although I know well that even such a hint as
either of you might gather from my words might jeopardise the success
of his work. But I am convinced that you both wish to help him—and
his daughter,” he said this looking me fairly between the eyes, “to the
best of your power, honestly and unselfishly. He is so stricken down,
and the manner of it is so mysterious that I cannot but think that it
is in some way a result of his own work. That he calculated on some
set-back is manifest to us all. God knows! I am willing to do what I
can, and to use any knowledge I have in his behalf. I arrived in
England full of exultation at the thought that I had fulfilled the
mission with which he had trusted me. I had got what he said were the
last objects of his search; and I felt assured that he would now be
able to begin the experiment of which he had often hinted to me. It is
too dreadful that at just such a time such a calamity should have
fallen on him. Doctor Winchester, you are a physician; and, if your
face does not belie you, you are a clever and a bold one. Is there no
way which you can devise to wake this man from his unnatural stupor?”
There was a pause; then the answer came slowly and deliberately:
“There is no ordinary remedy that I know of. There might possibly be
some extraordinary one. But there would be no use in trying to find
it, except on one condition.”
“And that?”
“Knowledge! I am completely ignorant of Egyptian matters, language,
writing, history, secrets, medicines, poisons, occult powers—all that
go to make up the mystery of that mysterious land. This disease, or
condition, or whatever it may be called, from which Mr. Trelawny is
suffering, is in some way connected with Egypt. I have had a suspicion
of this from the first; and later it grew into a certainty, though
without proof. What you have said tonight confirms my conjecture, and
makes me believe that a proof is to be had. I do not think that you
quite know all that has gone on in this house since the night of the
attack—of the finding of Mr. Trelawny’s body. Now I propose that we
confide in you. If Mr. Ross agrees, I shall ask him to tell you. He is
more skilled than I am in putting facts before other people. He can
speak by his brief; and in this case he has the best of all briefs, the
experience of his own eyes and ears, and the evidence that he has
himself taken on the spot from participators in, or spectators of, what
has happened. When you know all, you will, I hope, be in a position to
judge as to whether you can best help Mr. Trelawny, and further his
secret wishes, by your silence or your speech.”
I nodded approval. Mr. Corbeck jumped up, and in his impulsive way
held out a hand to each.
“Done!” he said. “I acknowledge the honour of your confidence; and on
my part I pledge myself that if I find my duty to Mr. Trelawny’s wishes
will, in his own interest, allow my lips to open on his affairs, I
shall speak so freely as I may.”
Accordingly I began, and told him, as exactly as I could, everything
that had happened from the moment of my waking at the knocking on the
door in Jermyn Street. The only reservations I made were as to my own
feeling toward Miss Trelawny and the matters of small import to the
main subject which followed it; and my conversations with Sergeant Daw,
which were in themselves private, and which would have demanded
discretionary silence in any case. As I spoke, Mr. Corbeck followed
with breathless interest. Sometimes he would stand up and pace about
the room in uncontrollable excitement; and then recover himself
suddenly, and sit down again. Sometimes he would be about to speak,
but would, with an effort, restrain himself. I think the narration
helped me to make up my own mind; for even as I talked, things seemed
to appear in a clearer light. Things big and little, in relation of
their importance to the case, fell into proper perspective. The story
up to date became coherent, except as to its cause, which seemed a
greater mystery than ever. This is the merit of entire, or collected,
narrative. Isolated facts, doubts, suspicions, conjectures, give way
to a homogeneity which is convincing.
That Mr. Corbeck was convinced was evident. He did not go through any
process of explanation or limitation, but spoke right out at once to
the point, and fearlessly like a man:
“That settles me! There is in activity some Force that needs special
care. If we all go on working in the dark we shall get in one
another’s way, and by hampering each other, undo the good that any or
each of us, working in different directions, might do. It seems to me
that the first thing we have to accomplish is to get Mr. Trelawny waked
out of that unnatural sleep. That he can be waked is apparent from the
way the Nurse has recovered; though what additional harm may have been
done to him in the time he has been lying in that room I suppose no one
can tell. We must chance that, however. He has lain there, and
whatever the effect might be, it is there now; and we have, and shall
have, to deal with it as a fact. A day more or less won’t hurt in the
long-run. It is late now; and we shall probably have tomorrow a task
before us that will require our energies afresh. You, Doctor, will
want to get to your sleep; for I suppose you have other work as well as
this to do tomorrow. As for you, Mr. Ross, I understand that you are
to have a spell of watching in the sick-room tonight. I shall get you
a book which will help to pass the time for you. I shall go and look
for it in the library. I know where it was when I was here last; and I
don’t suppose Mr. Trelawny has used it since. He knew long ago all
that was in it which was or might be of interest to him. But it will
be necessary, or at least helpful, to understand other things which I
shall tell you later. You will be able to tell Doctor Winchester all
that would aid him. For I take it that our work will branch out pretty
soon. We shall each have our own end to hold up; and it will take each
of us all our time and understanding to get through his own tasks. It
will not be necessary for you to read the whole book. All that will
interest you—with regard to our matter I mean of course, for the whole
book is interesting as a record of travel in a country then quite
unknown—is the preface, and two or three chapters which I shall mark
for you.”
He shook hands warmly with Doctor Winchester who had stood up to go.
Whilst he was away I sat lonely, thinking. As I thought, the world
around me seemed to be illimitably great. The only little spot in
which I was interested seemed like a tiny speck in the midst of a
wilderness. Without and around it were darkness and unknown danger,
pressing in from every side. And the central figure in our little
oasis was one of sweetness and beauty. A figure one could love; could
work for; could die for...!
Mr. Corbeck came back in a very short time with the book; he had found
it at once in the spot where he had seen it three years before. Having
placed in it several slips of paper, marking the places where I was to
read, he put it into my hands, saying:
“That is what started Mr. Trelawny; what started me when I read it; and
which will, I have no doubt, be to you an interesting beginning to a
special study—whatever the end may be. If, indeed, any of us here may
ever see the end.”
At the door he paused and said:
“I want to take back one thing. That Detective is a good fellow. What
you have told me of him puts him in a new light. The best proof of it
is that I can go quietly to sleep tonight, and leave the lamps in his
care!”
When he had gone I took the book with me, put on my respirator, and
went to my spell of duty in the sick-room!